The darwanji said “uniform chhara toh dhukte dewar order nei” and I smiled and entered SCHOOL as an ‘outsider’ this time to take kutu's report card.

The huge green world which leaves me in awe every time I see it. After sitting and hopping around alone I wondered how cold the school has become and could relate the “in our times…” dialogues which I grew up hearing from teachers and parents who were ex-Diocinas

After taking the results my mother, who has now transformed into the typical "oi teacher ta kom marks dey and tomar meye koto pelo" kind (which she never was 'in my time' and Thank God for that), was on her pride ride (if such a word exists) with other aunties and suddenly a junior said "Abhishikta did na?" and started chitchatting although I could not remember meeting her ever before. I was actually pleased to shower my gyaans on her on how to study before HS and shit and she like everyone else said that she hates engg and 'daaktar hote chai' and I smiled yet again at the tinted world that she still belongs to and which will eventually be broken (as satabdi puts it)

Rima Mitra emerged out of nowhere and I had to touch her feet (:@) and I noticed her pink floaters :) :) :)

She at least is still the same I thought. After initially demoralizing and scolding (and whatever you call it) me for doing B-Tech she said

".. and you would love to know that psychology has been introduced in class IX. I was waiting to give you this news."

and after another few minutes she left without failing to curse maths and physics and wondering why have I given up on psychology and most importantly BIOLOGY and told me how on the first day of class ix I told her I wanted to be a psychologist and she remembers that and whatnot. I cursed myself for going to school.

And finally canteen time it was and I ordered my favourite thin chicken roll and bingo! that don't make it anymore. After calling them all sorts of names I eventually had the worst kind of food that there ever can be.

School is where the heart still is and shall forever be. Our time is over.

Trisha's mother told me the day before "school ta netiye gechhe" and I did not understand what exactly she meant till today but the Diocinas looked happy so I folded up not thinking much at the warmth that somehow was missing and loving everything nonetheless. 

And sir gave me this link bikele

http://www.higherpraise.com/lyrics/awesome/awesome1782.html

And I smiled wide again

:)

The woman hugged her real tight at the middle of the road and whispered “Your friend is getting married.”

HOLY SHIT

this story was read out once during my early days in the secondary section during a spoken english class by mrs.sengupta and here i found it again today in someone's blog. one of the prize winning entries in a story writing competition 8years ago (almost)

I loved my didi, always had infact. Yet my didi dreamt of a happy marriage and all my loving did not change the fact that my didi was dark, short and had failed to pass her higher secondary examinations... I had loved my did right from the time when I had started to walk. My didi, then a little girl with two sturdy plaits would hold my hand reassuringly while I made futile attempts to gain control over my legs. Grateful for the support of those two limbs I loved my didi even more. But my didi dreamt of marriage and all my loving did not change the fact that she was dark and short and had failed to pass her higher secondary examinations and thus had no prospect of matrimonial alliance. Now when I think back I often have a nagging suspicion that except me perhaps no one ever had loved my didi.

My mother in those days used to rave on and on about the injustice meted out to her by god by burdening her with two daughters. My father, frustrated at losing his job, and his inability to provide a dowry, drank away his pains, my didi though never cried, she was the only one who encouraged me to study. And I continued loving my didi, But my didi dreamt of marriage and all my loving didn’t change the fact that my didi was dark and short and failed in HS and thus had no prospects in future

Then came the fateful day, 10th of January, when at last a "sambandha" was fixed for didi. Never mind the groom was 55 and this was his third marriage, never mind that my didi was described to have a " medium complexion" and a Bsc degree in computer science. Our household changed its look. My mother for once forgot her grumbling and my father went quietly about the house, selling almirahs trunks and jewelry to glean together 1 lakh for the dowry... but my didi didn’t marry. And unlike many other women, she didn’t announce the fact dramatically on the day of her marriage, she mailed her true mark sheet to the groom's family instead. They promptly withdrew from the marriage. My didi never got married again.................. thats it then thats the story of a making of a champion though I don’t have any idea how my didi became one. Because I often wonder do short, dark people who have failed in their HS have any right to be champs at all?

Bimbabati Sen
Xth std

and now every time I come across a new profile, I quickly check the "info", the college to be more specific

self pity aha

and you can hate me for that

Kabuliwala

l

He called me "maa" throughout and he hugged and cried while we left. While everyone made fun of him, my heart sank. Here is the man, miles away from home
And whenever he talked about home I saw the "kabuliwala" in him.
Life teaches you how lucky and over demanding bitch you are... over and over again

For thine is the kingdom

The power and the glory

For ever and ever

Amen

Jete jete porbe mone... amar koto ki korar chhilo je...

The admission season is on... the same old adrenalin rush, dreams waiting to wilt, dreams waiting to be tuned into reality 

 Every now and then I see people and feel bad and feel JEALOUS

This is where I end up... with probably the best persons alive

and you listen to certain songs which makes you sad... very very sad...

"...keu niye ghurchhe shudhu godhuli"

and the best friend calls at the the right moment to say... "please more jashna. amar ki hobe" and there again, the smile returns

*jealous*

Mr.Anamitra Ghosh

I am very very jealous